Hell if I Know
by GIRL IN STORY
Summary: Kenny McCormick is used to being ignored. Even dying doesn't get him noticed, but Kenny's fine with that, because the good thing about being ignored is that you don't have to worry about anyone leaving you. Completed.
1. Un

A/N: These first few chapters are based very heavily on _That Story With the Stupid Plot. _It's an incredibly story, and I started writing this fanfiction for the fun of it, but Seaouryou graciously said I could post it. So just to reiterate, the first three chapters are going almost exactly the same as the Kenny and Mole centric segments of _That Story With the Stupid Plot, _and then the story will branch off. A big thank you to Seaouryou for letting me use your story, and I'm sorry if I butcher it beyond phsycial belief.

There will be slash in later chapters. Kenny/Mole and some Stan/Kyle.

Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

"Who has a quote representing Estella Havisham's character archetype in their notes?" Kenny's English teacher, Mr. Jackson, looked at the class expectantly. When no one moved, he sighed and said, "You can refer to your books if you need to."

Kyle, Wendy and a few other started flipping through their school issued paperbacks, but Kenny was getting a headache and Kyle's voice would only make it worse.

"I have a heart to be stabbed in or shot in, I have no doubt," he said, in a monotone. "And of course, if it ceased to beat, I should cease to be. But you know what I mean. I have no softness there. No sympathy, sentiment, nonsense."

Mr. Jackson looked surprised. "Very good, Kenny. Now, who can tell me what archetype that quote represents?"

"You don't 'ave notes or a book out. 'Ow did you know that?" A voice muttered in Kenny's ear, as Kyle answered the teachers question and Kenny winced. He didn't have to turn to know who was talking to him. Christophe, more commonly known as the Mole sat directly behind him, and besides, Mole was the only person Kenny knew with such a thick French accent. Or any French accent at all. Kenny was a little surprised though, because Mole had never spoken to him before. Mole never really spoke to anyone. When he'd first shown up at South Park High School, he'd greeted Stan and Kyle politely and then turned and punched Cartman hard in the face. Kenny had decided it would be wiser not to ask any awkward questions, and after that the Mole pretty much kept to himself.

Kenny tilted his head slightly so Mole could hear him, "I have a photographic memory. Which actually kind of sucks, considering the things I've seen."

Mole was silent for a moment. "'Ave you ever done reconnaissance work?"

"Yeah, actually. When old people took over the town."

"I will pretend that makes sense. Would you be interested in helping me on an assignment tonight? I 'ave to infiltrate a compound, and draw a map of eet. Your skills would simplify matters."

Kenny paused to consider it. Mercenary work sounded much more interesting than reading another chapter of Great Expectations, but it also sounded painful and even though Kenny was used to dying, it fucking _hurt_ .

"What's in it for me?" he asked.

"What do you want?"

Again, Kenny paused. "A piece of chocolate cake from Tweek Bros. Coffee."

"That's eet?" Mole sounded surprised. "You realize that this mission will be incredibly dangerous. You might die."

"That's okay." Kenny shrugged.

"You're willing to risk your life for cake?"

"Yeah." Kenny didn't get what was so weird about that. "Deal?"

"Meet me at ze corner of Costello Avenue at 10:00 p.m."

Kenny smiled. His mother had been nagging him to be more social.


	2. Deux

Standard Disclaimers Apply

* * *

Kenny woke up at one minute past midnight, clutching his head. He always, _always_ had a headache when he came back from hell. Even though he'd only been dead for about an hour, he felt like his skull was in as many pieces as it had been back at the compound.

Mole had been waiting for him at the corner of Costello Avenue, just like he'd stipulated, but he still looked surprised when Kenny showed up. With a brief greeting, he'd led Kenny to the compound. He detached a pair of wire cutters from his belt and slit a hole in the fence that he and Kenny then slid through. Staying in the shadows, they'd made their way halfway around the edge of the area, with Mole pointing out landmarks he wanted Kenny to remember in a whisper. 

"There," he said. "There was a light snowfall fifteen minutes ago, but those footprints are still fresh. There's someone in that building," he pointed across the clearing. Grinning, he tightened his grip on his shovel. "We should announce our presence. Eet's only fair."

"You really get a kick out of this, don't you?" Kenny asked. Mole shrugged.

"We must all find 'appiness where can," he said wrily.

Kenny looked at him thoughtfully for a moment.

"You know," he said seriously. "When you say 'happiness' it sounds like you're saying 'a penis.'"

Mole snorted. "You're a fucking idiot. But you know, you're really not that bad."

Then a stream of gunfire split Kenny's skull open.

* * *

Kenny got dressed slowly, trying to jostle his head as little as possible. He ransacked his house and accosted his parents for Aspirin, but he couldn't find a single capsule. He ended up having to stop by Value Drug and sacrifice his lunch money to the god of really-fucking-painful migraines. 

He missed his bus and walked to school, but still got their almost ten minutes before the first bell. Kyle, Stan, and Cartman were standing in a circle in their usual spot by the candy machines, and Kenny has just started in their direction when Mole walked up to them with a sober look on his face. He took his cigarette from his mouth, twisting it between his fingers.

"Oh. Hello, Mole," Stan said, confused.

"Leesten," Mole said. "I need to tell you something. Eet's about Kenny."

"Kenny?" Kyle said.

"I'm sorry. 'Ee…" Mole started, but trailed off when he looked over Kyle's shoulder and saw Kenny walking up to the group. His eyes widened.

"You," he said.

"Me?" Kenny cocked his head to the side.

Mole reached out and nudged Kenny's shoulder, as if he expected his hand to pass right through. When it didn't, he started prodding Kenny with a look of total confusion on his face.

"What's up?" Kenny asked, slightly bemused, watching Mole prod him. "You start chain smoking something other than cigarettes? Oh, is this about the map? Sorry, I didn't see enough of the compound to be able to draw it, but if you want to go back, I can-"

"Forget ze map!" Mole cried hoarsely. "Dead - I saw you – how?

"What?" Kenny's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Oh. Hey, you've never seen me die before, have you? Sorry, I forgot."

Mole just started at him, so Kenny benevolently took it upon himself to elaborate. "See, I die sometimes. Then I come back."

"'Ow?" Mole asked.

"Hell if I know." Kenny shrugged.

"And you don't care? You don't want to find out why it 'appens?"

Kenny looked startled but then the easy grin was back. "Not really. But hey, about the map-"

"It told you, forget ze map. It's no big deal."

"Yes, it is," Kenny said urgently. "Because without it, I don't get cake."

Mole blinked. "Eet's just cake, Kenny."

"You wouldn't say that if you'd ever tasted the chocolate cake at Tweek Bros. Trust me," he said seriously. Mole smiled slightly.

"Alright, you've convinced me. Meet me 'ere after school and we'll go to this zis Tweek Bros."

"Are you sure?" Kenny asked, though it was usually against his moral code to question free food.

"Why not? Besides, it will give me a chance to ask you more about your deaths."

The bell rang shrilly and Kenny shrugged and headed towards his first class with a quick wave, already daydreaming happily of cake. His headache was finally gone, and he was getting free food. He could tell it was going to be a good day.


	3. Trois

Standard Disclaimers Apply.

* * *

The school day passed with relatively little conflict. Kenny had been put in the third period shop class despite his best efforts to the contrary, but he skipped it, just in case. He didn't want a band saw to come between him and his dessert.

Then, during lunch a short, violent fight had broken out between Cartman and Kyle. Kenny didn't really mind the disruption, because it gave him a chance to steal some of Kyle's lunch. He was too scared to try stealing Cartman's. As he scarfed down Kyle's french fries, Kenny watched Stan try to break up the fight.

"Kyle, just calm down," he said, pulling at his friend's arm.

"I will not calm down! That fucking fatass has gone too far!"

"I'm just trying to help you, Kyle," Cartman said, with a disturbing smile on his face. "The National Association for Research and Therapy of Homosexuality has conducted a study showing that your faggot tendencies can be overcome. I'm just trying to help you get rid of those overwhelming urges to pound your boyfriend, so that you can reintegrate into normal society."

"Boyfriend?" Stan said, looking up. He was still trying to hold Kyle back, though it didn't take much effort. Stan played football and Kyle was a wiry diabetic.

"We all know you and Kyle are in love, Stan. Come out of the fucking closet already," Cartman said.

Stan let go of Kyle's arms and tackled Cartman to the cafeteria floor.

Kenny munched thoughtfully on another French fry.

He slept through most of his afternoon classes, and before he knew it, school was out and he and Mole were in Tweek Bros. waiting for their order. Kenny could tell that Mole was trying to wait a respectable amount of time before asking him about his deaths. He wasn't really sure why. Etiquette hadn't struck him as one of the Mole's biggest priorities.

"Gaah! Here!" Tweek said, sliding two plates and two cups onto the table.

"Thanks," Kenny said. "Oh hey Tweek, could we get some of those little cream packets for the coffee?"

"Gaah! It's too much pressure!" Tweek twitched and left to get their cream.

Kenny noticed the look on Mole's face. "Don't mind him. He's always like that."

Tweek came back with the cream, and Kenny thanked him kindly before scooping a bite of cake into his mouth.

"Oh, my fucking god," Kenny moaned orgasmically, closing his eyes.

"God," Mole said. "God is a beetch."

Kenny looked up and swallowed. "God is a sandy geological formation?"

"Non. I'm being blasphemous."

"Oh," Kenny nodded understandingly.

"Eet's not bad," Mole said, trying a bite of his cake.

Kenny looked up at him, "You're crazy. It's fucking ambrosia."

"Are you like this about all dessert?"

"All food really. Comes from living off frozen waffles. But my one weakness is chocolate," he said.

"You're kind of a freak."

Kenny shrugged, grinning, "Been called worse, I guess."

"So," Mole said. "About your deaths."

Kenny took another bite of cake, looking at Mole out of the corner of his eyes, "Why do you care?" he asked. Then he quickly added, "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't get it. I mean, death really isn't that big a deal. It's usually only painful for a few minutes, and then you go to Heaven which is boring, or Hell, which isn't that bad."

"I know."

"What?"

"Well, I didn't know about 'eaven," the Mole shrugged. "But I know 'ell isn't that bad. Ze telemarketers were irritating and there were way too many strip malls, but at least there wasn't ze torture and eternal suffering you always 'ear about."

"How..." Kenny's dark brown eyes widened considerably. How in hell (literally) did Mole know that? He couldn't have heard it from someone, because Kenny had never told anyone about hell. No one had ever asked, and he wasn't going to bother people with things they didn't want to know about, so Kenny had always kept his thoughts on the afterlife to himself. The only way Mole could know about Hell was if...

"I've been there," Mole said.

"You've..."

"I died when I was eight. I was in 'ell for maybe, a few 'ours and then suddenly I was back in my body, with a really fucking painful 'eadache. It only 'appened ze one time."

"How?" Kenny asked.

"I 'ave no idea. I was 'oping you could tell me."

"No, I don't mean how you came back to life. I mean, how did you die?"

"Oh. Guard dogs. I fucking 'ate guard dogs," Mole said.

Kenny nodded understandingly and lapsed into silence. He had finished his cake before the revelations on mortality, and he was staring at his empty plate, thinking hard. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, and he was grateful when Mole didn't interrupt his stream of consciousness. Mole had died because of guard dogs, but guard dogs were nothing special. Kenny had gotten mauled dozens of times, and all it really did was sting more than usual. Mole had died when he was eight years old. That would put it back when they were in the third grade... third grade...

"The war," he said suddenly.

"What?" Mole said.

"Did you die during the Canadian-American War?" he asked.

"Oui. Do you know what brought me back?" Mole asked eagerly.

"Yeah," Kenny said just as eagerly, proud of himself for figuring it out.

"What was eet?"

"Me, technically," Kenny said.

"You?"

"Yeah. Do you want the short version or the long version?"

"Long," Mole said.

"Okay, so then I guess it starts with..." Kenny trailed off for a minute. "Me dying."

"'Ow?"

Kenny blushed. "Not important. The point is, I kicked it and went to hell. That was the first time I met Satan. It wasn't the first time I'd been to hell, obviously, but Satan had never greeted me personally before then. He's actually a decent guy, but kind of a pussy. He was letting Saddam totally push him around."

"Saddam?"

"Saddam Hussein. They were dating," Kenny elaborated. Seeing the expression on Mole's face, he held up a hand and said, "Just go with it. Anyway, I gave Satan some relationship advice, but he was still being a pussy and didn't take it until after we'd come to Earth and Saddam was trying to take over the world. So then Satan got a backbone and killed Saddam and I guess he was feeling grateful or something because he offered me one wish. I wished for everything to go back to the way it was before the war."

"But, that would send you back to hell, nest-ce pas?"

"Yeah. But not for long," Kenny said.

"So... I am alive because of you?"

"Uh-huh. What weird coincidence," Kenny nodded, and took a sip of coffee, wrapping his hands around the cup to absorb its warmth. The weather was more bitter than usual. He could feel its effects, even inside the coffee shop and Kenny's parka was so thin and worn out that it didn't do much against the cold anymore.

"'Ere, I'll buy you another piece of cake," Mole said.


	4. Quatre

Standard Disclaimers Apply

* * *

It had been a couple of weeks since Kenny and Mole went to Tweek Bros. and they'd developed an easy friendship. Kenny was the only person in town willing to listen to Mole rant about God, and Mole didn't pretend that everything Kenny said was muffled by the hood he didn't wear up anymore. Kenny had started skipping shop class regularly to hang out by the bleachers with Mole, who had third period free. They smoked and talked about stupid, random things. Kenny had absolutely no moral qualms about cutting a class that killed him on a regular basis.

Kenny appreciated the distraction Mole offered, because Kyle, Stan and Cartman were still acting like idiots. Cartman was still trying to convince Kyle that he should sign up for anti-gay therapy and Kyle was still trying to beat Cartman up.

After his initial and impressive display of anger, Stan had basically given up on trying to argue with Cartman. Either he was displaying his standard obliviousness, or he was just being mature about the whole fight, but Stan acted like he didn't care when Cartman shouted, "You can give up your twisted, perverted way of life, Stan and Kyle! You just need to believe in yourselves!" in the middle of the school hallway.

Stan's indifference was starting to bother Kyle, who had taken to complaining to Kenny during History. Kenny decided to stop sitting by them at lunch, until they went back to normal. The free food just wasn't worth the drama. So Kenny had started spending lunch with Mole too.

Up until a few weeks ago, the closest things he'd had had to a best friend was Cartman. Kenny cared about Stan and Kyle. God, he even cared about Cartman. He knew they felt the same way about him, but that was only when they remembered him at all. Kenny knew better than to be offended by it, but he was very easily ignored. When it came to getting attention, dying would be most people's trump card. Even dying didn't get Kenny noticed.

Then suddenly, there was Mole. They didn't spell out their friendship all the time, like Kyle and Stan did, but it was there. Tangibly, in the smoke clouds they blew up into the tiers of the bleachers and in Mole's laughter, when Kenny told him about the luaus he'd been to in hell.

Kenny felt a little strange, having someone want to talk to him, and hear what he had to say, but he didn't want it to stop. It wasn't a bad kind of strange. It seemed like Kenny's life had taken a turn for the better. Not a sharp turn, like the kind that would send a car out over a cliff, or hard into traffic, but a slight change in direction. Kenny had been pretty happy lately. Happier than he probably deserved to be.

Not tonight though.

Tonight, he was pissed.

"God fucking damn it!" Kenny yelled, and slammed his fist into the tree. The stupid fucking bum had stolen his gloves too, so splinters of bark dug into his bare hands. He sat down in the snow, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his arms. He just didn't want to deal with it anymore. He was so fucking tired of dying.

"You know, I think I've seen more blood since I met you than in all my years as a mercenary," a voice said conversationally.

Kenny lifted his head and saw Mole kneeling down next to him in the snow, already unstrapping the mini First Aid kit from his belt. He opened it and pulled out some packaged antiseptic pads and a compact roll of gauze. Then, taking Kenny's hand, he started cleaning it methodically. Kenny glanced down, vaguely surprised. He hadn't notice he was bleeding.

"Now," the Mole said as he finished cleaning the scattered cuts, checked them for splinters of wood and started unrolling the gauze. "What's ze matter?"

Kenny flushed slightly, finally aware that Mole had caught him acting incredibly pathetic. "Nothing."

"Then why are you punching inanimate objects?"

Kenny shrugged, but was pretty sure Mole had missed it since he was still focused on Kenny's hand. He finished fixing the bandage in place, put his supplies away and attached the First Aid kit back onto his belt before he looked up at Kenny again.

"Seriously," he said. "What's ze matter?"

"I died again. It's nothing."

"What 'appened?"

"It was just some homeless guy. Some bum who wanted my coat and was fine with stabbing me to death to get it. Usually, even if my clothes get destroyed, like, if I die in a fire or something, I'm wearing them when I come back to life, but that fucking bum stole my coat _before_ he killed me. God damn it, I hate South Park. Anywhere else and he would have gone after someone who's coat wasn't all ratty and old. This is such a fucked up town. Now I'm fucking freezing."

It was silent for a moment as Kenny wrapped his arms around his knees again. It had started snowing, and the soft flakes were falling onto his bare arms and melting into tiny droplets. They were so cold they almost hurt, but it was worse on his face, where the cold stung against his flushed cheeks.

He sighed. "Sorry. I'm being stupid. It's no big deal."

"Come with me," Mole said, standing up, brushing the snow from his pants and holding a hand out to Kenny. When Kenny looked up in confusion, he said, "I'm giving you your birthday present early."

"Present?" Kenny asked, letting Mole help him to his feet. Kenny had almost forgotten that his birthday was next week. He wondered vaguely how Mole knew about it, before he remembered Mole was mercenary, and probably knew a lot more than he let on.

"Oui, but don't expect to get anything on your birthday. It's just that you need it now."

"I don't need anything," Kenny mumbled. Mole ignored him and started out of the park, obviously expecting Kenny to follow. The walk to Mole's house was silent, and when they got there, he held a finger to his lips to signal that his mother had already gone to sleep. He unlocked the door and let them in, leading Kenny up to his room. Then he shut the door so they could talk without waking his mother. Kenny sat down, leaning his back against Mole's bed, and Mole went to the closet and rummaged around till he found a discreet black paper bag.

"'Ere," he said.

Kenny took the bag curiously and looked inside. He slowly reached in and pulled out a thick, soft, orange parka, just like the one the bum had stolen from him, except that it was brand new.

"How'd you find this? It looks exactly the same," he said reverently, brushing his bandaged fingers across the faux fur lining on the hood.

"I'm a mercenary. I 'ave connections," Mole said, sounding slightly insulted.

"Your connections can find orange parkas?"

"My connections can find anything," Mole grinned. "Is it okay? I wasn't sure if ze reason you liked your old one was because it 'ad sentimental value or something gay like that, but I saw how well you took care of it, and I figured you might want..." he trailed off.

"It's perfect," Kenny said, pulling the sleeves over his cold arms.

"It's a little big," Mole said critically. "I forgot 'ow fucking malnurished you are."

"I like it like this. This is just my old one. Just like when I was a kid, except then I, you know, grew."

_And couldn't afford to buy a new one_, Kenny finished the sentence in his mind. He zipped up the parka and pulled the cuffs down to his fingers. He wrapped his arms around his waist and grinned, turning to Mole. "Thanks."

Mole shrugged, and glanced at the clock. The red numbers flashed that it was one in the morning. "It's getting late."

"Yeah. I should probably be getting home," Kenny said, looking down at his hands.

"I was thinking you could just pull out a sleeping bag."

"Really?" Kenny looked up.

"Oui. It's too late to walk 'ome in ze snow anyway." Mole dug around in his closet some more, and pulled out a big sleeping bag. Kenny kicked off his shoes and slid into it still wearing his new parka. He curled up and was halfway asleep before Mole had even found a pillow for him. Mole rolled his eyes, lifted Kenny's head and dropped it back onto the pillow with a soft thud.

"Goodnight, Kenny."

"G'night Mole," Kenny mumbled sleepily.


	5. Cinq

Standard Disclaimers Apply

* * *

Kenny pushed the front door to Mole's house open. They were well past the stage in their friendship where they had to knock before entering, or call before coming over, or really be polite to each other at all. He ran upstairs and found Mole in his bedroom, kneeling on the plush carpet and digging through a battered old cardboard box.

"Hey," Kenny said.

"'Salut, Kenny. Ah, 'ere it is." He pulled an old cassette tape out of the box and slipped it into his decrepit VCR player.

"You 'ave to watch zis."

"What is it?" Kenny asked.

"Orpheus, by Jean Cocteau. Eet's about a man who falls in love with ze manifestation of Death."

Kenny snorted inelegantly.

Mole sat back, his lips quirking up at Kenny's reaction. "Don't laugh at eet. If Death is your lover, you don't have to worry about 'er leaving you."

"No, just killing you."

"Well, there is that," Mole shrugged.

The phone rang suddenly, interrupting the opening credits of Oprheus, and Mole turned to answer it.

"'Allo?" For a mercenary, Mole was surprisingly low tech. He didn't have a cell, or even a cordless phone. He had one of those old fashioned ones, black, with a curling cord he tended to twist around his fingers as he talked.

After a moment he said, "D'accord, mais, ou est-ce que vous voulez- Oui. Je le sais. Haricots Avenue. D'accord. Au revoir."

He hung up, and Kenny heard him give a barely audible sigh.

"What was that all about?" Kenny asked.

"An assignment. I 'ave to go right now, but eet's a simple delivery. It shouldn't take too long."

"Do you want me to come along?"

"Non, you would probably die, and we 'ave that English test tomorrow. There's some brioche downstairs if you're 'ungry. Keep watching the movie, I'll be back in about a bit. Ten o'clock, latest."

Kenny nodded, watching Mole as he grabbed his shovel from where he'd propped it by the door, strapped it onto his back and slipped downstairs. Kenny turned back to the movie and was soon sucked into it much deeper than he thought he'd be. The story was interesting, the dialogue was funny and Orpheus himself was fairly cynical, which Kenny could appreciate. Before he knew it, the final credits were rolling.

When Kenny glanced up at the clock, he saw it was already nearly eleven at night, and Mole still wasn't back. A sick feeling formed in Kenny's stomach, and the more he tried to ignore it, the worse it got. Mole was competent, and he'd said it was a simple assignment. But then Mole had also said he'd be home by ten, and it was almost an hour past.

Realizing it made him certifiably pathetic, but not really caring, Kenny turned off the television, and slipped downstairs and out the door, shutting it carefully behind him. Between the jumbled French of Mole's phone call, he'd distinctly heard Haricots Ave. On foot, Haricots was only a fifteen minute walk away.

When he got there, Kenny stood on the corner for a minute, rubbing his arms from the cold and trying to figure out where exactly Mole would have gone. Most of his mercenary assignments were slightly criminal in nature, and Haricots was too exposed to do anything illegal on. Then Kenny remembered a small lot and abandoned storage building just off the main street.

He turned towards it, thinking that if people just stopped abandoning buildings, the crime rate would probably drop like a stone.

The lot was empty, but when Kenny cautiously pushed on the door of the storage building, it swung open. The room inside was dark and at first Kenny thought it was empty, but as his eyes adjusted, he could make out more details. There were a few desks pushed up against the far wall, and the dust on the bare floor had been disturbed by heavy feet. Kenny could just make out a body sprawled in the middle of the room. The sick feeling in his stomach sharpened. He dashed forward and knelt down on the dirty floor.

"Kenny?" Mole's voice cracked. Kenny leaned forward and pulled the taller boy towards him, letting Mole's head rest on his knees. He reached down and brushed a dark lock of hair off his face as Mole's intensely brown eyes closed. Dirt highlighted his cheekbones, and blood had spattered from the hole in his heart, dotting his neck and arms and seeping through his clothes.

Kenny watched, oddly detached as Mole's breathing grew harsher, and slower and finally stopped.


	6. Six

Standard Disclaimers Apply

* * *

Years of dying and you learn tricks to get blood out of your clothes. For most stains you can use warm water and soap, but with blood you have to use cold water, because at high temperatures the hemoglobin will become denatured and stick to the fabric. The denaturing of this particular protein is irreversible. If the bloodstain is old, you have to scrub it with baking soda. Kenny was fairly sure his family didn't have any baking soda. His family didn't have much of anything, and he wouldn't be able to get home in time for the cold water to work by itself.

Damn it. He'd really loved that coat.

It was Mole's fault. Mole was a fucking mercenary. He'd spent his life dodging bullets, only to get shot now and bleed all over Kenny's new parka. He wasn't even around to take the blame. Kenny wasn't sure what he would say to Mole if he was still alive, but he was sure it would be in a very loud voice. He wanted to yell, to scream and hit something, hurt something, hurt _anything, _and it didn't make any fucking sense to him.

None of his own deaths had made him this angry.

Kenny needed to yell at Mole, and he wasn't going to be discouraged by the fact that Mole was dead. He wasn't going to think about the millions of people in hell he would have to search through, and he definitely wasn't going to wait until the next time he died. He needed to find Mole now, while his anger was still fresh. While the cold water would still work without the baking soda. Before his anger became denatured and stuck to the fucking fabric.

The denaturing of this particular protein is irreversible.

He pulled a small bolo knife from the sheath on Mole's belt and rolled up his sleeves. He remembered hearing once that if you really wanted to kill yourself, you should cut along the length of your veins, not across your wrist. If you cut straight across, you're just trying to get attention. Kenny chuckled softly. Trying to get attention.

Even dying didn't get Kenny noticed. Death would be most people's fucking trump card.

He pressed the knife down until the blade bit and then pulled sharply, snagging the skin. He flipped the bolo knife to his other hand and cut before the severed nerves made it impossible to move his fingers.

Kenny had never killed himself before. Not even when there was a show he wanted to catch on Satan's cable TV. It had always seemed one step too close to macabre. He realized that it hurt a little, but really, there were worse ways to die. Kenny registered suddenly that he'd forgotten to take his parka off first, and the blood was trickling down his arms to his bunched up sleeves and soaking into the fabric.

Oh well. His coat was shot to hell anyway.

A surge of dizziness hit him and the world went black for a minute. His wrists were starting to throb with each beat of his heart. Kenny's vision came back, but everything seemed blurred around the edges and it faded out again as Kenny slowly bled to death.

Oh well. His life was shot to hell anyway.


	7. Sept

Standard Disclaimers Apply

* * *

Somewhere during the walk to Satan's house, Kenny's purpose had changed. He didn't want to yell at Mole anymore, or at least not as much.

He was surprised to see Mole sitting with Satan on the big ornate porch steps of his mansion. Mole was on the last step, with his legs spread loosely on the ground in front of him and his hand shaking around an unlit cigarette. Satan was sitting a few steps up, and Kenny drew near in time to hear him say, "He usually comes here when he dies. You can wait for him, if you want. Everyone deserves closure."

Kenny had to physically fight off the compulsion to roll his eyes. Satan was such a fucking pussy.

Mole caught sight of Kenny and stood up sharply. The cigarette he'd been holding fell from his fingers and rolled harmlessly into the dirt.

"Kenny, what are you doing 'ere?"

"I killed myself," he said. "And it stung like a bitch, so you'd better not fuck with me, Mole." His voice sounded brittle and hard, even to his own ears but he ignored it and turned to Satan.

"I want to make a deal with you. A trade. I'll stay here, this time for good, if you let him go home."

Before Satan could answer, Mole said, "Kenny, stop it. It was my time to die."

"No, it wasn't."

"Kenny-"

"Are you going to argue with _me _about death?" Kenny asked sharply. He breathed in deeply, smelling the heat and charcoal atmosphere. His voice softened, and he tried to crack a grin.

"It's no big deal, Mole. I'm used to being dead."

"That doesn't make it okay!" Mole shouted. "When are you going to get it through your fucking skull, that just because you're used to being dead, or going 'ungry or being ignored, doesn't make it okay!"

Kenny just blinked and looked at him in confusion, so Mole gave a cry of exasperation, stomped forward, grabbed Kenny's arms and kissed him hard on the lips.

Kenny made a startled sound in the back of his throat, but then he was curling his arms around Mole's waist. Kenny arched his neck as Mole started kissing along his jaw and down his throat. When he pressed a kiss to his jugular, Kenny moaned, and Mole's grip on his arms tightened at the sound. Then he was kissing Kenny's lips again, hard enough to bruise.

When they finally had to stop and catch their breath, Mole pulled back, breathing hard and not quite meeting Kenny's eyes.

Satan cleared his throat, and Kenny turned to see him wearing an expression that was some strange cross between amusement and sentimentality.

He looked at Kenny. "You want Christophe to return home, right?"

Kenny nodded as Mole made a noise of protest.

Satan turned to Mole. "And you want Kenny to return home, right?" It was Mole's turned to nod.

Satan's face took on a pensive look, and then he smiled.

"Alright. In that case, you can both go."

Kenny looked startled and Mole narrowed his eyes.

"It's that easy?" Kenny asked.

Satan looked very serious. "You've told me before how people on Earth are always learning life lessons. Well, I've learned something today. It's important to follow your heart, but if you love someone, it's even more important to follow theirs. I wouldn't have learned that without you boys, so I figure I owe you something in return. "

Kenny leaned over and whispered in Mole's ear, "I told you he was a pussy."

The next thing he knew, they were back in Mole's bedroom. It was the first time Kenny had ever come back from hell without feeling like he was waking up from a long unrestful sleep, and it was the first time he'd ever come back without a headache. It was still dark outside, and Mole's clock flashed two in the morning in vivid primary red numbers.

Mole exhaled audibly and sat down on the edge of his bed. Kenny hesitated and then sat down next to him.

"Why did you stop me?" Kenny asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer. "Why did you stop me from making that deal with Satan. I mean, why didn't you just go home?"

"Because you're my best friend," Mole said in tone that said it should be obvious.

"I am?" Kenny asked. "I thought you were... I thought maybe you just... felt sorry for me."

"What?"

"Because I'm poor, or because I get hit by the occasional truck, or because no one ever really cared about either of those things. I thought you bought me food, and the coat, and talked to me because you... pitied me." Kenny hated sounded so fucking pathetic, but he'd just commited suicide, they'd just come back from hell and Mole had just kissed him.

He figured nothing he said could make it any more awkward.

"Kenny, I do those things because I'm selfish."

"Selfish?" Kenny looked up. Mole looked like he was trying not to laugh at him.

"Oui. I bring you food because I don't like it when you're 'ungry. I gave you ze coat because I wanted to, because it was your birthday, and because you wouldn't shut up about 'ow cold you were," he smiled. "And I talk to you because I want to 'ear what you 'ave to say."

"Really?"

"Of course. Don't be so fucking stupeed."

Kenny grinned and leaned forward to give Mole a quick kiss. He pulled back, trying not to blush and then Mole was pushing him back onto the bed. Kenny's head hit the pillows and Mole pinned his wrists on either side of his body. He took a second to look at Kenny, trapped underneath him with his blonde hair mussed and his eyes dark, before Mole muttered an obscenity and leaned in to kiss him.

Long after they had finally run out of breath and the events of the day had caught up with them, Kenny was curled up against Mole, about to fall asleep listening to the reassuringly steady thrum of his heart. He pressed his palm flat against Mole's black tee shirt, and when he saw the sleeve of his coat through the darkness of the room, Kenny's lips quirked up.

The bloodstains were gone.


	8. Huit

A/N: This is the last chapter. If I get enough requests, I may add an epilogue concluding Stan and Kyle's relationship, but that seems unlikely since right now I have less reviews than chapters. Thank you very much to the people who reviewed.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

* * *

Kenny walked into South Park High School to see Kyle standing in front of his locker. He looked like he hadn't moved in a while and he was staring at the inside of the metal door.

"Hey, Kyle," Kenny called, walking up to him. He turned around, slamming the door shut, but not before Kenny could see the picture taped to it. Stan and Kyle were standing in front of Stark's Pond, cracking up at something and leaning into each other's shoulders.

"Oh, hi, Kenny," Kyle said.

Suddenly Kenny felt something soft bounce off the side of his head. He bent down and picked up a cellophane wrapped muffin, then grinned and turned to see Mole coming up behind him.

"Bonjour, Kyle," Mole said politely. "'Ere, Kenny, I got you some breakfast." He leaned in and gave Kenny a quick kiss, which turned into a longer kiss, which was as French as Mole's accent. He pulled back, licking his lips. Kenny was grinning like a cat.

"I 'ave to go make up a test I missed for Monsieur Jackson. I'll see you later, Kenny."

Mole turned and walked away in the direction of the Mr. Jackson's classroom.

"He kissed you," Kyle said, sounding shell-shocked.

"Yeah," Kenny shrugged.

Kyle flushed slightly, "Are you... together?

"Not right now," Kenny said, unwrapping the muffin Mole had thrown at his head. "Mmm, chocolate. Right now he's in the English classroom."

"I meant-"

Kenny sighed, but he was still smiling. "I know what you meant. I also know that if I say yes, you're going to ask me for advice on what you should do about Stan."

Kyle blushed.

"The thing is, you and Stan deal with things differently than I do. You like to pin things down and slap sticky little labels on them." When Kyle started to protest, Kenny held up a hand. "That isn't necessarily bad. You just need to understand things in order to deal with them. I'm not like that. I'm fine with not understanding something as long as I like it. I don't need to talk things to death to enjoy them. And I _enjoy_ making out with Mole."

He had to smile at Kenny's trademark perverted grin.

"Mole kisses me," Kenny shrugged. "A lot. And he brings me chocolate muffins and chucks them at my head. I don't know if that's love, or if it's friendship. Probably a bit of both, but either way I don't really care, because I get the chocolate."

Kyle grinned again as Kenny stuffed a chunk of muffin in his mouth.

"You and Stan, on the other hand, need to talk things to death. So get over yourself and go do that."

* * *

La Fin


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